


One in the Hand, Two in the Bush?

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy needs to get off. Like yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One in the Hand, Two in the Bush?

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in season 2. Wrote ages ago for my own amusement. Cause I'm horrible and need Murphy's life to suck more.

There were some kind of bullshit peace talks going on between the Grounders and what was left of the Ark people. More likely a mutually benefiting temporary alliance against Mount Weather. Whatever it was Murphy didn’t give a shit. What shits Murphy had left were given for the mass of Grounders wandering around camp Jaha. Nothing like having the people that tortured you for days hanging around every corner. It didn’t exactly help easy Murphy’s alright high stress and anxiety levels.

Not that the alternative of having just ‘his people’ around was much better, they liked him just as much as the Grounders but at least the Grounders were up front about how they felt. Least with the Grounders around it kept them worried about each other which meant less eyes on him.

Not that that changed anything. Murphy was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. He couldn't leave the camp. He wasn’t a fool, he know he’d die out there alone. By his own lack of survival skills or by the Grounds. And staying in camp, well, he was treated like trash. Not that that was new. But it was certainly getting old. It was only the people of the Arc’s footing on ‘moral high ground’ that kept them from putting a bullet between his eyes. He knew that.

That was all beside the point. Murphy needed one thing right now to help ease the madding levels of stress crushing him and if he couldn't find some privacy soon he was going to kill someone. Probably with his dick.

Finally towards the more damaged end of the crashed station he found a small room. From the looks of it it was a maintenance bay of some sort. It was a right mess inside, wires and tube hanging down and walls deformed from the crash. Not that he gave a damn. Murphy checked that he wasn’t followed before he ducked into the cramped room.

He had one thing on his mind and as he slipped his hand down his pants, he was going to get himself off even if if it killed him. Unbuckling his pants, he pushed them down passed his ass. Palming his already hard cock, he staggered back, hitting the wall behind him.

Letting his head fall back he stroked himself in a tight fisted grip.

“Fuck!” he needed to get off so bad. He felt so close already, that white hot feeling coiling tight in his stomach. Thumbing the head he smeared precum over it, taking time to run his thumb over the slip. It was almost enough. Pumping his fist in quick succession he was so close he could feel it but, but it was a dull feeling, not close enough to the surface, yet. 

Continuing his tight fisted grip, he worked from root the tip, squeezing just how he liked it. But it wasn’t working.

“Fuck, fuck~”

How did Mbege do it? Mbege could have Murphy a sticky mess in minutes flat. Taking in a much needed breath Murphy loosening his grip and tired to think of that hot welcoming mouth. A silent pleas left his lips as he thumbed the head again in slow movements. Pumping slowly in a loose grip Murphy imagined Mbege lips around him. Feeling the edge building again he quicked his pace and grip. Almost, almost. One more stroke. One more. He was so close but couldn’t get over the edge.

Fuck. Why was that bastard dead.

“God fucking damn it.” he abandon any control he had and started pumping his fist fast and hard. 

He was going to come even if it killed him, and it just might as the crunch of something under foot had his eyes shoot open. Standing in the open doorway was a tall Grounder.

“The fuck you want?” Murphy all but growled “Can’t a guy get some privacy?”

The Grounder moved forward but not before grabbed the warped door behind him and dragging it shut a few inches. Oh. God. He was going to die cock out without getting one last one off. The universe hated him.

Murphy scrambled to grab his knife, the Grounder closing the gap between them fast. The moment Murphy had his knife in hand the man was on him. Easily stopping Murphy’s attempted attack with one hand around Murphy’s thin wrist. Struggling he couldn’t pull free. A failed attempted at a left handed punch had both Murphy’s wrists held in firm grips. To Murphy’s horror the grounder could hold both Murphy’s wrists in place with one hand. Fuck. Fuck.

Murphy was not above crying for help, though the thought of being caught with his pants around his ankles with a grounders was less than preferable, dying wasn’t to great an option either. His cry for help was cut off easily by a hand over his mouth. Not that anyone would hear him. He was back here not to be heard for a reason. Just another wonderful fuck up on his part. Seems about right.

He wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying at that point. White hot tears rolling down his face as his muffled pleas behind the grounders hand. He couldn’t go through this again. The scars on his face hasn’t even healed from his last encounter with the grounders. 

His mind supplied at that moment that theoretically he could live through it again. He had twice already. Fucking thanks for that. If the grounder didn’t kill him, being the stubborn bastard he was, his body would heal. He’d live. I guess. He could feel himself shutting down. Everything started to get dull and gray. Accepting the lasted shit life had for him. 

His eyes went unfocused and he distantly recalls the grounders hand leaving his mouth. Of all the things that could come next, a warm hand on his cock wasn’t one of them. An audible gasp left Murphy’s lips, shaking and breathless. His half hard cock spring back to life. He locked eyes with the grounder. The man was searching Murphy’s face for something.

The Grounders had done every ungodly thing to him the first and second time, but rape. They’d never raped him. He’d been raped before but not by them. The grounder must have caught Murphy’s train of thought when the color drained from Murphy’s face.

The grounders hand left his cock, gently touching Murphy's exposed stomach, his cock twitching at the touch against his will.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” the grounders voice was soft and younger than Murphy thought it would sound. His thumb stroked the sensitive skin above Murphy’s hip maddingley. “Let me help.” the grounder was still looking Murphy in the eye.

Murphy’s brain must have malfunctioned at some point, he wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating. But the soft touch of the grounders rough hand was doing more for Murphy than his hand had ever done and he wasn’t stupid enough to turn that down.

He must have nodded or give some kind of consent because the grounder let his hands go. They stayed in much the same place they were before just going to rest on the grounders shoulder, hands still lightly fisted. The grounder moved his now free hand to the wall behind Murphy to support himself.

Hand returning to his cock, the grounder’s rough thumb circled the over sensitive head. A curse left Murphy’s lips with another slow drag over the head. It sent shivers through Murphy. It was to much. Over sensitive and as wound tight as Murphy was it hurt how much he needed to come.

Stroking him now slowly from head to root taking time to tease the head with each pass Murphy’s body locked up, eyes screwed shut, his grip on the knife dangerous and knucks white.

“I can’t-” Murphy forced out between clenched teeth.

The grounder stilled his movement before moving his hand lower cradling Murphy’s balls gently. 

“Relax.” the grounder said plainly. It sounded like some kind of sick joke. Murphy couldn't stop the hurt weak sounding laugh that left his throat with a string of curses. He couldn’t take it. Float him. He was going to die from not getting off. Could you die from that? He didn’t think so but he’d sure as hell be the first.

The knife in his hand was starting to look really good about now. Anything would be better then feeling this. He coughed out the last of a hollow laugh, his head fall forward to rest on the grounders shoulder. As the grounder was massaging his balls with skill that Murphy was not in the right mind to appreciate. When the grounders fingers brushed against the soft skin between his balls and hole, Murphy wished to any god that was listening that he’d taken his pants off before starting this so he could get his legs open wider. But he couldn’t so much as sob, curse, and plead to come. So he just pushed his legs as far apart as his pants would allow.

After what felt like forever the grounders hand mercifully left his crotch. Murphy’s breath was coming in short hot gasps. Sure that this was going to kill him.

A firm hand on the side of his chest over newly healed ribs that had just stopping hurting him brought his attention back to the room. The grounder stroked his side a few times, before licking his lips and to Murphy’s horror and delight sank down to his knees. The man’s head at his crock, skull exposed, for a brief moment Murphy considered driving the knife into the man's head. He didn’t get a chance to play out that train of thought when the grounder grabbed Muprhy’s pants and yanked them down further.

“What are you-” Murphy dumbly started but his question was answered with a warm mouth. The warm slide of his mouth had Murphy all but doubled over. Fisted hands landing on the man’s shoulders.

He took Murphy’s whole cock easily in one smooth motion. Bottoming out, sucking lightly, he flexed his throat around the head. Murphy’s pretty sure he screamed but no sound came out. He kept up the sucking for a moment before pulling back and sucking on the head. Circling the head with his tongue, he swept over the head after every other pass. Murphy’s whole body went rigid, breath coming in tight bursts.

“Relax or you won’t be able to come.” the grounder said against Murphy’s now leaking cock, before taking the head into his mouth again.

Murphy outright laughed. “Relax?! How am I supposed to fucking relax with a grounders mouth around my cock?!”

The grounder pull off and Murphy prayed he wasn't to going to stop. But he licked the head before closing his mouth over it again. Working his tongue in circles. Slopping and wet the grounder ran and hand down the shaft, before suddenly taking the whole length in a smooth motion to the root again. His breath was hot against the sensitive skin at the base of his cock. It was all too much.

The grounder didn’t move just sucked lightly. Like he meant to slowly swallow Murphy whole. The whole feeling was to much and a little underwhelming, but Murphy was so over strung he couldn’t even form words.

The smallest twist of his head caused friction so delicious, Murphy could feel the head of his cock brush the back of the grounders throat. Pushing forward he wanted nothing more than to get closer. In deeper. Wished he could get his legs wider.

It hurt as much as it felt good. Murphy couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull away or push deeper. The grounder decided for him. A strong hand on his butt pushed Murphy deeper, the head of his cock pushing against the back of his throat again. He’d never been more on edge in his life. He wouldn't have been surprised if his heart stopped. His body was shaking violently with the need to come.

The hand on his butt moved lower then, wet fingers slipping between his cheeks, he pressed against Murphy’s hole and he saw stars.

Murphy sprung up straight, with the force of it.

The grounder swallowed hard around him again, pulling a breathless scream from Murphy as he came so hard it physically hurt. But that could have just been Murphy hitting his head against the wall behind him. The knife he’d held all this time fell from his hand with a dull sound when it hit the ground.

The grounder swallowed all Murphy gave him, his body jerking at how over sensitive he was. He finally mercifully pulled off Murphy. In a haze Murphy all but collapsed when the grounder let go of his legs. Before he could end up in a heap on the floor the man helped him stand again. Boneless Murphy was easily put where the man wanted him. One strong hand on his chest, keeping him in place. Murphy’s arms were resting lightly on the grounders shoulders still.

“Octavia had the right idea. God damn.”

Still coming down from the high, Murphy felt the man move in a jerky motion. Murphy opened his eyes to see the man working his cock in quick strokes, before Murphy could say anything the grounder came painting Murphy’s belly and legs with come.

Classy.

“You need to bath more.” the grounder said tucking his cock away and closing his pants.

Murphy’s brain didn't catch up until the grounder was almost out the door. “Says the guy covered in dirt.”

The grounder turned. “I don't stink. Bath.” and with that he left Murphy standing there, pants down, covered in come.

There was nothing to clean the mess up with. Cursing Murphy pulled up his pants, over the sticky mess.

He really did need to bath more.


End file.
